Orphanhood
I
After Bloykof died and his widow left the Land, Isaac was left without a friendly home. In truth, for a few weeks before Bloykof passed away, he hadn’t gone to the artist’s house, and when Bloykof died he withdrew into himself. In those days, Isaac hid from his comrades and sat by himself a lot, wondering at the world full of suffering followed by death. And in his thoughts, he enumerated all his comrades who had died. Once he went to his neighbors from his homeland, the seminary students. He came and found only two of his four comrades, for one of them was sick and was taken to the hospital and one got married and went to live in his father-in-law’s house.
That woman was lame, and it was hard to find a match for her because of her defect. And that defect was the result of an act, for once, violating the prohibition of the holiday, she went to the grave of Simon the Saint and broke her leg and became crippled. Don’t the graves of the Saints bring healing, and how did an accident hap-pen on the grave of the Saint? But she went to show off her new dress, got her legs tangled in her dress and broke her leg. But the Saint had mercy on her and sent her a mate and blindfolded his eyes so he wouldn’t look at her defect. And because he didn’t look at the defect of a Jewish girl, he won a wife and support.
His two comrades laughed at that fool who was tempted by the bread of fools. But when they look at their own meager bread that they cut up into pieces as tiny as olives and are never sated by it, they justify what he did. Not every Amnon wins his Tamar, and not every Solomon finds a Shulamit. How much their hearts had hummed when they lived Outside the Land and read in the novel
The Love of
I
263
Zion
about the splendor of the excellent daughters of Zion. Now that they dwell in Jerusalem, they haven’t yet seen that splendor. Perhaps the Sages were right when they interpreted the Song of Songs as a parable and an allegory.
Our two young comrades lie on their rickety benches with torn bedding beneath them, and books in their hands. A lot of things are written in books, but the main thing is missing from the book, how you sustain the body in hunger and thirst, in evil illnesses and the other ravages of time. If they had stayed Outside the Land, they would have been married off to women and dressed in good clothes and lived like human beings and eaten and drunk like human be-ings and been appointed to everything in the Society and would have supported Zionism, bought a Shekel and contributed money to the Jewish National Fund and subscribed to the Hebrew newspaper, and educated fellows would have flocked to their door and talked about Ahad Ha-Am and Mendele and Bialik and about the change of taste in literature and poetry. When their fathers were young, Y. L. Gordon was considered the leader of the Hebrew poets, and when the fathers of their fathers were young, Adam HaCohen was considered the leader of the Hebrew poets, and before Adam HaCohen, Naftali Hertz Vesseley was considered the leader of all the poets. Now, Vesseley is derided and no one remembers Adam, and they even scratched Gordon out of their heart, and every mouth bleats, No one dares disagree that there is no poet like Bialik. But times change, and from time to time, taste changes, and a new generation may arise that won’t savor all the flavors we savor in Bialik. But why should we worry about tomorrow, we have enough to worry about today. If they withstand all the troubles and complete their studies and don’t fail their examinations, they’ll find a position in a school and will find their daily bread. But man doth not live by bread only. There are a great many other things a man’s heart yearns for. Meanwhile, their time is running short. Even when there were four of them, it was hard for them to pay the rent. Now that there are two, it’s that much harder.
Two or three times, Isaac went to visit his comrades. At last he stopped going to them. As long as Bloykof was alive, Isaac seemed
Orphanhood
I
265
to leave all his friends for Bloykof. Now that Bloykof was dead, he had lost the taste for friendship.
I
Isaac has been living in Jerusalem for almost a year. Breakfast and supper he ate in his room, and for lunch he made do with what he had taken to work in his basket. If he didn’t have any work to do, and if he did have an extra coin, he put on his best clothes and went to the Georgian restaurant where most of the bachelor intelligentsia ate their meals. Since our comrade Isaac wasn’t eager for luxuries, he gave up dessert and his meal suited his pocket. There were some din-ers who gave Isaac a friendly welcome and there were others who didn’t, for Jerusalem is not like Jaffa. In Jaffa everyone sits together. In Jerusalem, craftsmen sit in one place and members of the intellectual professions sit somewhere else. Once Isaac heard that Lydia Rosenberg, the pampered secretary of the principal of the Hilfsverein Society School, complained that a housepainter was seated at her table. Isaac thought to himself, If Sonya was with me, they wouldn’t look down on me.
All that time he lived in Jerusalem, he hadn’t heard anything about Sonya, except once when he got regards from her. And it’s not clear if she sent him regards or if the man who gave him her regards did it on his own. She even stopped writing letters to him. Sonya was preoccupied with other things. But Isaac thought about her again and ruminated about what he was going to write to her, but he hid the words in his heart before writing them. When he saw that he didn’t get them down in writing, he sought to do orally what he didn’t do in writing. And he began thinking about going down to Jaffa. What Isaac did with his letters you already know, so now I shall tell what he did with his trip. At night he would say, I have to go. Morning came and he didn’t go. Isaac came out of his state of equanimity. And when he looked at himself he said, That’s not how I pictured my world. But if that’s my lot, so be it.
Isaac’s world really wasn’t so bad. He made a living, and if it wasn’t prosperous, it was enough for his needs. And from the day Bloykof died, Isaac’s yoke was lighter and he didn’t have to skimp on
his own bread for the sake of others. And from the day Mrs. Bloykof went Outside the Land, he didn’t have to share with her what he earned making signs and dedication tablets. But it is not given to every man to be happy with what he’s got, and he is sorry for what he hasn’t got. Isaac began disparaging his brushes and paints, which he had to substitute for the spade and the plow, and he didn’t remember that never had he held a plow or a spade. And since he examined that, he examined the origins of things and the sequence of their de-velopment, from the day he lured his father into giving him travel expenses to the Land of Israel, to the day he became close to Sonya and took her heart away from Rabinovitch, and finally she took her heart away from Isaac too. What did Isaac have left of all those things? He deceived his father and he deceived his friend and his friend’s girlfriend. And what did he have left? Desolation and grief and remorse and shame, like the parable the preachers tell about the cunning of the Evil Instinct that tempts man and seems to show him all the delights of the world in his hand until he drags his feet behind him like a dog, and finally he kicks him as you kick a mad dog.
Inside Jerusalem
I
A covenant is made with every city that stamps its seal on its inhabitants, especially the city of God, most exquisite of all cities, where the Shekhina never moves away from it. And even if the Shekhina is hid-den and covered, there are times and seasons when even the most sim-ple son of Israel who was blessed to dwell in Jerusalem will sense it, each to the degree of his sensibilities and to his merit and to the light of grace that illuminates his soul, and by virtue of the suffering he has suffered in the Land and that he accepted with love and did not complain.
All the time Isaac lived Outside the Land, he kept the Sabbath and laid Tefi and prayed every day, as taught by the precept of men. When he ascended to the Land of Israel, he hung his Tefi on a peg and lifted the other Commandments off his neck, he didn’t keep the Sabbath and he didn’t pray. When the fear of his father was lifted from him, the fear of his Father in Heaven was also lifted from him. Isaac was young, and hadn’t pondered much and made no calculations with his Creator, like most of our comrades in those days. When he ascended to Jerusalem, he started changing. Sometimes on his own ini-tiative and sometimes because of others, for instance when he worked with the Jerusalem painters and the time came for afternoon prayer and the painters stood up to pray, he also stopped work and prayed with them. And if he ate with them a piece of bread as tiny as an olive, he would join the prayer and say grace after his meal.
I
Isaac’s fellow painters invited Isaac to all the celebrations in their homes. Those people, who flay their flesh to make a wretched living
I
267
and all their days are grief and suffering, when they get a festive meal, they change and become happy. Twenty or thirty of them gather in a cramped apartment and spread a cloth, put out a bottle of red wine and a pitcher of brandy and some peanuts and sunflower seeds, and slices of honey cake from coarsely ground flour, and pieces of wa-termelon. And on winter days, they crown the table with oranges from Jaffa whose fruit is big, and from Jericho whose fruit is sweet. Everyone pours himself a little drink, and drinks a little and con-gratulates the host and all the guests, and slices himself a small slice of cake, and doesn’t eat immediately, but puts it with his glass so the host will see that he is enjoying his feast. If he has a good voice, he sings a tune, and if he is a joyful fellow, he tells a joke that entertains everybody, and if he’s a Talmud scholar he proffers a fine oral sermon or subtle reading on the weekly Torah portion or on a Bible verse, and concludes with some numerological acrobatics on the political events of the day.
From issues of Torah, they come to tell about Torah scholars, the first Rabbis of Jerusalem, who quashed persecutions with their prayers and removed evil decrees and brought down so much rain that the Gentiles were amazed and stunned, and bowed their heads to them. And it’s no wonder, for everyone who sanctifies himself and is truly in awe of the Lord and all his actions are for His Name, Blessed-Be-He, the Almighty loves him and is happy to do his will, as we say in the Psalm of David, He will fulfill the desire of them that fear him. As was the case with our teacher Kalonymos the miracle worker, who sacrificed himself for the Sons of Israel so much that he violated the Sabbath and the punishment for that is being stoned to death, and so that Saint commanded that everyone who sees his grave shall throw stones at it, and you still see a heap of stones on his grave. And since so many years have passed, the stones should have risen as high as heaven, but they must come down from heaven and take those stones away, and they must have a reason for that which we can’t grasp. From our first Rabbis, we come to the Rabbi who wrote
The Light of Light
and to the sages of God’s House, to the supreme saints, the masters of mystical intentions, who are like the ministering angels. And there are those who tell about Jerusalem,
that the Shekhina has never moved away from it and even the Gentile inhabitants of the Land don’t reject it, even in its destruction, and it always rests on the Western Wall, which, even though it is desolate, in its holiness it stands, and all the deeds of the Gentiles and their abominations don’t touch it. And some tell about the Western Wall that in the past they didn’t come there with shoes on their feet, but took them off and left them at some distance from the place, not like today when people come in their shoes. Our forefathers who were closer to the Destruction follow the laws of the seven days of mourning, while we who are close to the Redemption follow the rules of an ancient mourning. And when they tell of the first generations, they tell of those awesome sights in the heavens that were seen in Jerusalem until the year 1840 and stirred every heart to repentance. Most of all, they were fond of telling the feats of their forefathers, who wandered around on the roads for a year or two or three, until they came to Jerusalem. Some of them were rich Outside the Land and lived in fine, big houses, and they left all the luxuries Outside the Land and ascended and came to Jerusalem, and they made do with dry bread and lived on a dungheap that disgusted even the dogs, and they were as happy as if they lived in a royal palace, because they were dwelling in Jerusalem. And if they saw a fine house they wept and said Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how have you doffed the garb of your widowhood and donned fine clothes? And some of our forefathers were great rabbis, mighty in Torah, and when they came to Jerusalem, they didn’t publicize themselves because they didn’t want to enjoy the crown of the Torah in the place of the Torah’s life and they sat in the marketplaces of the city as harness-makers and cobblers wrapped in Tefillin and making a living from crafts they had clandestinely learned Outside the Land for the sake of Jerusalem, and no one knew their greatness until someone from their city chanced to come here and knew them and the Rabbis of Jerusalem forced them to leave their work for the work of Heaven. And when they did leave their work, they didn’t call a craftsman to their home, but did everything with their own hands because of the honor of the craft, and they decreed that their sons should practice a craft, for a craft sustains those who practice it. And since the weary hearts are
stirred by the feats of their forefathers, holy men who serve the Lord, one of the group stands up and takes off his shoes and sits on the ground and recites Bible verses of trouble and mourning, like the essence of man is dust, and like For our soul is bowed down to the dust: our belly cleaveth unto the earth. While that one sits and weeps, someone else stands up and dances to God with a song of joy, For we are Your people and You are our God, and all the guests join in, some with singing and some with clapping, until the time for prayer comes and they stand up to pray and return to their homes.
I
Isaac was most excited on Sabbath eves, when the city stops its give and take and gleams with the light of the Sabbath. This is the light of the Sabbath whose splendor glows even in the rotten generations. The sun has not yet finished its course in the firmament, but beneath the heavens, on the earth below, a great change is already visible. The air is transformed and a kind of hidden joy rises. All the shops are locked and all weekday business comes to a halt. The streets of Jerusalem are emptied of carts and the Holy Earth dwells in silence. No wheel turns, no whip lashes. The expanses of the world are silent, and a holy calm is ignited by the silence of the city. At that hour, the old beadle goes out from the Great Synagogue of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and calls out, The time for lighting candles has come! At that hour, someone jumps from the homeless shelters on Mount Zion and goes up to the top of the roof of a tall house and blows the ram’s horn to warn the nation that the Sabbath is coming. Opposite him, one of the Sadigura Hasids jumps up to the top of the roof of the Great Synagogue, Tiferet Israel, with a brass trumpet two cubits long in his mouth, and blows. Immediately, they come out of the rest of the synagogues and climb up to their roofs and blow until their voice is heard outside the Old City walls. Yeshiva students dressed in Sabbath clothes come and climb up on the roofs of the tall houses in the new city and ring big bells in their hands to announce that the time has come to light candles. And in every house and every courtyard, people hurry to prepare themselves to honor the Sabbath. Some savor the Sabbath dishes, for those who savor the Sabbath gain
eternal life. And some search through their clothing lest they have forgotten something that is forbidden to carry on the Sabbath, and others urge their little sons to arrange the prayer books for the Sabbath; some put oil in glass lamps and others pour some red wine into the oil to make it beautiful; some set the table and others don Sabbath clothes. Anger vanished from their faces and every speech is soft and good, and from every house and every courtyard shine many candles, and the whole city is like a palace adorned with candles and lights. Here a lamp is lit and there a lantern. Here a bowl of olive oil and there pure white candles. Here two candles for remember the Sabbath day and keep the Sabbath day, and two tablets of the Covenant, and there ten candles for the Ten Commandments. Here seven candles for the seven days, and there twelve candles for the twelve Tribes of Israel. Here as many candles as there are people in the house, and there candles without number. There are houses and courtyards where you don’t see the light of a candle all the nights, and when the Sabbath comes, the whole house is lit up. There are women who used to drop a coin into the box of Rabbi Meir Ba’al Ha-ness and say a special prayer every Sabbath eve before they lit the candles, and now they themselves are supported by that Charity, like people who deposited their money in a secure place and take it out in their hour of need. Now all of Jerusalem has ceased its work and from every house and every courtyard come old and young, dressed in Sabbath clothes, their faces glowing with the light of the Sabbath. People who aren’t important in your eyes on weekdays are exalted at that hour. Gone are angry faces and every eye is shining. Some go to the synagogues and study houses and others go to the Western Wall. Some walk slowly and others hasten, as their multicolored robes in all handsome hues are dragged over the stones of Jerusalem and cloak the streets of Jerusalem in velvet and satin. At that hour, all kinds of handsome hues appear in the sky overhead, either because the Sabbath garb is reflected in it, or the Sabbath garb is handsome because the shine of the firmament is reflected in it when the Sabbath enters. Often, our comrade Isaac followed behind those going to pray until he came to the Western Wall and stood and read with them
Give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good: for his mercy endureth
forever
, as if he too merited that mercy the Holy-One-Blessed-Be-He bestows on those who keep His commandments.
How beautiful is the entrance of the Sabbath at the Western Wall. The holy stones, whose holiness shines to us through the darkness of our exile, are even holier in the sanctity of the Sabbath, and the Children of Israel, who draw holiness from it, its remembrance and preservation, they will be redeemed. Isaac stands and prays, ei-ther by heart or from the prayer book. Sometimes his heart is drawn to the simple and charming melodies of the Mitnagdim and sometimes to the melodies of the Hasids, sometimes to the melodies of the Hasids who are excited at the awe in their heart, and sometimes to the melodies of the Hasids who are exalted by the flame of their prayer. And within every single melody, in Isaac’s heart his own melody sings with a blend of the melody he got from his hometown. In his amazement Isaac removes all his sins from his heart and sees himself as a newborn babe with no sin, pure of all blemish as in those early days when he was a lad with the lads of his hometown—with an addition of holiness from the holiness of the Sabbath in Jerusalem. How beautiful is the light of mercy to the soul that yearns.
I
But that mercy is not forever, for the quality of mercy is revealed only at times, especially to a person who isn’t worthy for the light of mercy to shine on him incessantly. Much as we try to justify Isaac, we must say that he was no better than all our other comrades. What can words add to it? We all want the good, but that good we want isn’t the real good. This matter has to be explained and I shall try to explain it. When we studied Torah in our youth, we knew that everything written in the Torah exists forever. And the only yearning of every single person of our nation was to carry out the Commandments and good deeds as told in the Torah. Later, other books fell into our hands and we found in them things we hadn’t imagined. Doubt entered our heart. And when we entered the house of doubt, we began slacking off in the Commandments. And if we kept some of them, we kept them so as not to make our parents angry. When we ascended to the Land of Israel and became free of Father’s yoke, we
also removed the yoke of Torah. Some removed the yoke out of fond-ness for freedom, and some removed the yoke because they mistakenly thought that the Lord demands of us only a good heart and to do mercy. And here came some of the sages of the time and rein-forced us in our errors with their articles and their research, who said that most of the Commandments are just products of Exile. Because when the first sages saw that we were exiled from our Land, they began to fear lest we disappear among the Gentiles. So they gave us a great number of Commandments to distinguish us from all the other nations, for as long as the Children of Israel lived on their own soil, what did the Prophet demand of them? A good heart and to do mercy. And the same for the future, when we return to our Land. Now that we are returning and the danger of mixing with the Gentiles is abolished, there is no more need for the positive Commandments, as they said in the Talmud, the Commandments will be abolished in the Hereafter. That or something close to it is the error of the sages of the time and we followed them. And we didn’t notice that the early days have passed and the days of the Messiah haven’t yet come, and the Exile is still going on and on.
Those ideas dominated Isaac’s generation. And even though Isaac himself wasn’t concerned with ideas, he put aside the Law and put off the yoke. Therefore, as soon as the light of divine mercy was revealed to him, it was extinguished. Like that lantern whose sides burst and the candlelight inside it cannot survive. Here is Isaac standing at the Western Wall and the divine light illuminates his heart, but when he returns to his home he returns to his own state. So very sadly Isaac sits there. No white cloth is spread on his table, and no Sabbath candle illuminates his house. No wine for the blessing and no plaited loaf of bread. A small lamp is lit as usual, but on all nights its light glows and on the Sabbath night its light is dim, for on the Sabbath night the eyes of the sons of Israel are bigger than on all other nights and need a double light. Isaac recalled Sabbath nights in his father’s house. Father returns from the prayer house dressed in Sabbath clothes and thanks the Lord for all the mercies He has done unto him and will do unto him and unto all mankind and greets the Sabbath with awe and love and joy, even though he borrowed for his Sabbath
because of his poverty. And when he recalled his father he recalled all his troubles at home and outside and his running from lender to lender, for Father has not yet settled his debt and pays interest on the interest. Even harsher than that is the issue of his brother who is eager to ascend to the Land of Israel to work the soil like Isaac. And even Father who consented to his oldest son’s journey only to keep his brothers from being dragged after him, even he wants Isaac to help his brother ascend to the Holy Land to work its soil and be sated with its goodness, for all hopes have come to an end, and there is no end to the pressures of a livelihood. And what will Isaac do? The truth he is ashamed to write, and a lie he won’t tell.